


To Protect & To Serve

by meaninglessblah



Series: Gift Fics [20]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: ACAB, All Cops Are Bastards, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Arrest, Bad Ending, Blackmail, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, Clothed Sex, Corruption, Dark Dick Grayson, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Extremely Dubious Consent, Frisking, Gotham City Police Department, Handcuffs, Improvised Sex Toys, M/M, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Object Insertion, Object Penetration, Police Officer Dick Grayson, Power Imbalance, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Drugs, Threats, Underage Kissing, Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, prostitute Jason Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaninglessblah/pseuds/meaninglessblah
Summary: It's Officer Grayson's first day on the job, and his new partner decides to treat him to some local tail.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Series: Gift Fics [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960108
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59
Collections: Batfam Kinkmas Exchange 2020





	To Protect & To Serve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xavierurban](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xavierurban/gifts).



“First day on the job,” Dick’s partner enthuses with a crooked grin, eyes flicking between where Dick sits in the passenger seat of the cruiser and the view of the road. He’s got one wrist crooked over the wheel, the other resting on his thigh as they roll through the streets, scanning for trouble. 

Dick nods, and returns the smile. He’d been assigned to Arnot for his first shift out of the academy, and the man had been quick to welcome Dick onto the force, introduce him to the other officers on their beat. They patrol what are arguably the worst of Gotham’s streets; several blocks of rundown neighbourhood that were a time-proven breeding ground for petty crime. At least one arrest per shift, Arnot had said with an air of pride, if not more. Never an empty cruiser pulling into the station yard when they ran the Alley’s beat. 

“Been a good first day,” Dick assures him. “Learning a lot.” 

“I don’t know you much yet, but you seem like a good cop, Grayson,” Arnot explains, some of that pride returning. “The boys back at the station seem to like you.” 

Dick shrugs, and eyes some pedestrians crossing the street to head into a convenience store as they cruise past. “I like everyone I’ve met so far. Been looking forward to getting my badge for a long time.” 

“They still busting balls at the academy, huh?” 

Dick flashes him a grin. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” 

Arnot laughs. “Exciting stuff. It’s been a quiet beat too. Haven’t seen it this quiet in years; you must be a lucky charm, Grayson. Scaring off all the local grime with that pretty face of yours.” 

“I do my part,” Dick answers, to another chuckle. 

“I say we celebrate,” Arnot says after a minute of comfortable silence, reaching across the cabin to slap Dick’s chest, right over his sewn in badge. “Show a rookie like you what the Alley has to offer.” 

Dick laughs softly. “If you say so. You know ‘er best.” 

“That I do, that I do,” Arnot agrees, eyes scanning the sidewalks as they turn another corner. Then he perks, and points towards the lone lit streetlight on the street they’re cruising into. “See that alley? I’ll bet you we find some tail hustling in there. It’s a favourite.” 

Dick nods, straightening in his seat as Arnot guides the cruiser to a slow crawl, easing into the laneway to point the vehicle into the narrow alley. It’s barely wide enough to fit, the headlights scraping over the brick wall of the apartment building on one side, throwing the shadow of a chain link fence over the industrial warehouse on the other. 

Sure enough, when their lights level out, there’s two figures in the alley, squinting into the bright beams as Arnot puts on the handbrake and leans over the steering wheel. Dick eyes the pair; one is shorter than the other, built more like a teen than the man next to him, who takes off running when he recognises the shape of the cruiser. 

Even a rookie can work out what was going on here. With how the guy had the kid bailed up against the wall, and from the look of the panic that graces the boy’s illuminated features before Dick’s partner kills the engine, this teen was hooking. 

“I know this kid,” Arnot says with a scoff, unbuckling his belt as he opens the driver’s side door. “Seen him around the block. Know his parents too; a career criminal in the making, this one.” 

He grunts when he swings out of the car, the sound muffled by the fading footsteps of their escapee John. Arnot doesn’t seem perturbed though, not a single move made to pursue the man as he turns the corner and disappears. 

Dick meets him at the front of the cruiser, where Arnot leans over to offer, “Watch this one, he’s a swinger. Take your teeth out while you’re busy asking after his report card.” 

He laughs, short and grating in the enclosed space, and Dick watches his partner draw his baton as the approach. Dick doesn’t pull his own yet, but keeps his open hands at his sides, gaze trailing over the boy’s posture as their shoes crunch gravel. 

The closer they get, the more Dick can see he really is just a kid. His youthful features, still bearing signs of babyface, might be throwing him off by a few years, but Dick puts the boy at around fourteen at best. Fifteen if he’s still waiting on a growth spurt. 

As they draw closer, Dick can begin to make out the booted heels strapped to the boy’s ankles, and now he understands why the teen hesitated to run. He’d probably break one of them trying to bolt over this uneven ground. Probably figured smooth-talking his way out of a citation was his best shot with his only corroborating witness now turning the corner at the other end of the alley. 

The boy looks terrified, briefly, before it smoothes to practiced innocence. At Dick’s side, his partner scoffs at the display, bootsteps loud where they reverberate off the alley walls. 

To his credit, the boywhore doesn’t flinch, one hand sliding down to perch on his hip, the other cocking confidently. “Can I help you officers with something?” he calls as they approach. 

“Sure,” Arnot replies with a smirk, jerking his chin in the direction the boy’s client skittered away. “You want to tell us what you two were up to just now?” 

The hooker eyes him warily. Dick can see him turning it over in his head, weighing up just how much the two officers saw in the brief flash of the headlights before his John had the sense to run. 

It’s clear from the boy’s posture that he doesn’t like cops. Most in these neighbourhoods have some grievances with the blue uniform; many of them have relatives who have been picked up for gang-related activity, or something as simple as dealing. Streets like these breed criminals, Dick’s come to learn during his time in the academy. There isn’t a single person out here that wouldn’t take a swing at a seasoned cop at the first opportunity, let alone a rookie on his first day. 

Still, admirably, he holds his ground, small even in his tacky six inch heels. Even if they hadn’t rolled in on a guy feeling up the teen in an alley, the boy’s outfit doesn’t leave much to the imagination. 

A thin, lacy tank top that drifts above his navel, and a cute plaid miniskirt in a dark red print that’s no doubt supposed to remind potential clients of schoolyards. The fishnets that are tugged up to his thighs somewhat shatter the illusion of a well-meaning schoolgirl though, as does the bright red lipstick smeared over his pouting lips. 

“Just having a friendly conversation,” the boy says levelly. His eyes shift from Dick to Arnot, tracking their movement as they stroll closer. He looks like he’s considering bolting, but in heels like those, the time for that has long passed. 

“You got any ID on you, kid?” Dick asks, playing it by the book for now. The boy shakes his head. 

“You got a name for us then, sweet thing?” Arnot asks, tone casual even as he closes the distance between them. 

The boy seems to be considering the merits of compliance. “Jason,” he says finally, though Dick can’t discern if that’s genuinely his name or just one he picked up off the streets. He does note the lack of a surname, though. 

“Jason,” Arnot repeats, eyes dragging down the boy’s narrow frame. Jason holds his ground, posture rebuffing but not aggressive. “Your parents ever teach you manners, sweetheart?” 

Jason stares at him blankly, the barest suspicion creasing in his brow as he tries to arrive at the point before Arnot leads him to it. 

“Officers like us,” Arnot continues, gesturing between them with his nightstick. Jason’s gaze stays fixed on the weapon until Arnot taps it once against his own chest and lowers it. “You’ve gotta be addressing us with a little respect, a better tone.” 

Something in Jason’s expression startles and settles. “Yes, sir,” he says in that perfectly clear, boyish timbre. 

“That’s more of what I like to hear,” Arnot agrees with an encouraging nod, and comes to a halt. They’ve managed to keep the boy between them, Arnot blocking any exit towards the back of the alley, and Dick with his back to the cruiser parked in the mouth. The boy between them is a few steps off the coarse brick wall that runs up one side, and Dick’s pretty sure he can’t scale the chain link fence on the other in those shoes. 

Jason seems to come to this realisation too, because he straightens his shoulders an inch more and exhales deeply through his nose, dark blue eyes steeling in the orange glow. 

“You entertaining Johns back here?” Arnot asks, nodding in the direction Jason’s client had run. 

Jason shakes his head, resolute. “No. Sir,” he adds after a hasty moment, tone softening into something more placid. There’s nothing placid about the glare he’s got levelled on Arnot though. 

“You’re not carrying drugs, are you?” Dick’s partner asks, and Jason’s jaw flexes beneath the cracked streetlights. 

“No, sir,” he answers firmly. That glower could scorch steel. 

“Because I remember picking your drug mule mother up back in the day,” Arnot continues. His baton hooks under the edge of Jason’s skirt, and the boy turns to keep him in his sights as the officer circles him. “Don’t suppose you decided to follow her bright ideas, did you?” 

Dick thinks he could hear Jason’s teeth creak with how hard the boy is clenching his jaw shut. “No, sir,” he repeats with blunt impassivity. “I’m clean.” 

“Bet you are,” Arnot mumbles, baton trailing over the boy’s thigh, above the line of his fishnet stockings. To his credit, Jason doesn’t flinch, not even when it trails inwards to stroke the seam of his hidden panties. “Suppose you take after your old man, then?” 

“I haven’t seen that bastard since he threw me out on the street,” Jason spits, gaze flashing. “Whatever shit he’s landed himself in has nothing to do with me.” 

His partner scoffs. “I’m sure it doesn’t. I’m sure he has no clue what you’re up to most nights, hustling every street corner that'll have you.” 

“No, sir, no hustling,” Jason says, voice a forced calm as he holds the officer’s gaze. Dick watches his hands clench at his sides. 

“No hustling, is that right?” His tone suggests he doesn’t believe the boy’s earnestness for a second. That baton slides up the front of the boy's groin, lifting his skirt up as his partner’s eyes flick down. “Suppose you’re just going to the theatre dressed up all pretty like this. Was that your date that ran off earlier?” 

Jason takes a stunted step back, wincing when he rebounds off Dick and back into that unrelenting baton. His skirt’s hitched high enough now that he must be feeling the breeze on his balls, and Dick can see the agitation roiling beneath the hooker's calm disposition. 

“We were just talking.” 

“Oh, they were just talking,” Arnot informs Dick, tone tinged with derision. Jason’s scowl darkens a few shades. “Pretty whore like you and a skeezy fuck like that just having a good ol’ yarn in an alley.” 

“Yes, sir,” Jason grits out, shoulders hunching when his skirt clears his groin completely. He’s totally exposed for Arnot, goods on display for anyone to just glance down the alley and see. 

Dick sees the movement before his partner does, the coil of muscle when the boy’s fists tighten. He’s stepping in to counteract it before the boy’s even managed to bat the nightstick away, larger grip tightening on that thin wrist. 

The touch ignites something in the boy, who spins to address the more obvious threat, wrenching at the wrist in Dick’s grasp. He doesn’t yield, turning the boy’s momentum against him to wind that narrow arm up between Jason’s shoulder blades. 

The boy yelps, arching to offset the painful angle his shoulder is held at, and Dick uses the leverage to propel the boy forward, bending him roughly over the hood of their cruiser. 

“Assaulting an officer is an offence, kid,” Dick says into his ear when Jason tosses a pleading look over his unhampered shoulder, squirming beneath Dick’s hold. 

“Arrest him,” Arnot drawls, and this close, Dick can see Jason’s pupils dilate when the fear saturates his features. 

“No!” he pleads, his shout reverberating off the brick as Dick straightens. Keeps a palm pressed to the boy’s spine as his partner draws the cuffs from his belt. “I wasn’t trying to hit him! I was just reaching for the stick, I wasn’t-” 

“That’s not what it looked like to me,” Dick tells him, and kicks the boy’s legs apart when he spooks at the ratcheting sound of cuffs opening. 

“Please, no, I didn’t, I _swear_ I wasn’t gonna-” 

Arnot’s hand joins Dick’s on the boy’s back, crushing his lungs into the metal hood as Dick offers up the captive wrist. The cuffs slide closed with a _snick,_ and the boy bucks fruitlessly, heel skimming past Dick’s calf when he kicks out. 

Dick grunts and tightens his grip to bruising. “You want to add resisting arrest to that charge, kid?” he growls, watching the cogs turn in the boy’s head as Arnot seizes that other wrist and pulls it down to meet the open cuff. “Because that’ll land you a few nights in lock up.” 

Terror washes over the boy’s features, but Dick’s hardly surprised. A boy of his stature, dressed as he is, in a men’s correctional facility for a few days? There’s no telling how many of them will take a few quick turns at the jail’s trick before they drop the charges. 

His movements still, and Dick lets up off his back enough for the boy to pant unevenly against the hood. His partner checks the cuffs, tightening the first before he lets Dick take the chain in his fist. 

“Hold still,” Dick orders, though the instruction seems unnecessary now that the boy’s complying. He steps back far enough that he can nudge the boy’s feet another half-foot apart. The sound of his heels scraping the pavement echoes in the empty alley as Arnot leans into the cruiser to retrieve his fieldbook. 

Dick closes the distance between them, angling his feet to trap the boy’s legs open as he presses his palms to that narrow ribcage. Pats and squeezes down the length of his smaller frame as the boy breathes raggedly into the hood of the cruiser. He thinks the kid might even cry, with how tremulous his breaths are becoming. 

He doesn’t feel anything through the boy’s clothing, and thin and revealing as it is, he doesn’t think the boy’s going to be packing anything on his person. The boy’s leg does twitch when Dick slides a palm down to his knee though. 

Dick flicks a glance up at him, noting how the boy is refusing to meet his gaze, and squats down to shove his fingers into the kid’s ankle boot. Jason yelps, shifting his weight only to think better of kicking an officer in the teeth. 

He slumps against the hood, pouting, when Dick draws out the pocket knife. 

His partner whistles low and impressed when Dick holds it up to the weak light. “Is that a switchblade? That's a 2C offence, right there. You know how long that’ll get you in prison?” 

“No, please,” Jason starts, eyes alighting with concern. 

“Unlawful possession is a fourth degree offence,” Arnot croons, grinning down at Dick as he sets the knife on the hood beside the boy’s head and pivots to check the other boot. “How long’ll that you get you, Grayson?” 

“Eighteen months,” Dick informs him, and feels the boy stiffen. “And a ten grand fine.” 

Jason’s head whips around, gaze swivelling from his partner to Dick. “Ten _grand?_ ” he bleats, grief-stricken. “I don’t have that kind of money. I don’t _make_ that kind of money. Please, please, I can’t afford that. There’s gotta be some other way, sirs, please.” 

“You got a lawful reason to be carrying a dangerous weapon like that?” Arnot drawls, and Jason starts shaking. His eyes brim with tears, the desperation plain in every trembling line of his body. 

“Please, I didn’t mean to be carrying it. These streets are dangerous, you’ve gotta believe me, I need it-” 

“Dangerous?” his partner repeats loudly, and Jason lapses into a weak silence. 

Dick bounces back up to his feet, setting the tube of lipstick and a few crumpled twenty dollar notes next to the knife before taking up that chain again. He’s satisfied that the kid’s not carrying anything else on him. 

“ _Dangerous,_ ” Arnot says incredulously, false dismay painting his features. “After all we do to clean up this beat, you have the gall to tell _us_ that these streets are _dangerous?_ ” 

Jason’s already shrinking, withdrawing quickly from the claim in an effort to please them. “No, no, I didn’t mean-” 

“First he assaults an officer,” Arnot lists, counting the offenses off on one hand, “then he resists arrest, and gets caught carrying a prohibited weapon. And _now_ he wants to slander the good hardworking cops who patrol this neighbourhood and keep him safe-” 

“I’m sorry!” Jason bleats, voice cracking on the shout. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry I had it, I shouldn’t have been carrying it, okay? I know better now, thank you, officer, thank you.” 

Arnot’s thin lips twist in cruel amusement at the kid’s desperate pandering. Dick just keeps a firm grip on his cuffs as Jason’s gaze skims the contents of his pocket, neatly laid out on the hood. Any moment now those tears are going to start falling, wetting those pretty blues. 

“I can’t go to prison,” Jason croaks, fingers curling into his palms beneath the shiny silver of the cuffs. “I can’t afford a fine like that, please, I’m just trying to survive.” 

Arnot seems to consider that, lips twisting in consideration. Jason holds his breath, body leaning towards the cop like he can will the man into mercy with his mind alone. 

“These streets are rough,” he admits. 

Jason trembles, but nods. “Yes.” 

“I mean, we’d know better than anyone, right, Grayson?” 

“Right,” Dick murmurs. 

Jason nods furiously, a glimmer of hope sparking in his gaze. “Yes, yes, please, sirs.” 

Arnot exhales roughly, a crease knotting his brow. It’s hilariously transparent to Dick, but the kid seems to be buying into the torn act. “But you did commit an offence here.” 

Jason swallows, head shifting to shake slowly. “I didn’t mean to, I was only-” 

“You made a choice to carry that knife,” Arnot continues, steamrolling the boy. “And choices have consequences.” 

Tears brim, glistening in the lowlight. 

“But I suppose we can find an alternative arrangement.” 

Relief floods the boy’s features. He looks startling youthful in his naivety. “ _Thank you,_ thank you, sir, I-” 

“We wouldn’t want to let that pretty outfit go to waste, now.” Jason stills, every muscle frozen. “Especially since your date ran off and left you all on your lonesome out here.” 

Jason’s throat works several times, the long moments dripping by before he summons enough resolve to ask, his tone admirably demure, “What did you have in mind, sir?” Probably thinks that if he bats his lashes real pretty, Arnot will settle for a quick blowjob behind the cruiser. 

Dick has a hunch that his new partner’s tastes have never been so simple. 

“Looks like you’re on the hook for ten grand’s worth of a fuck,” Arnot muses, and Dick watches the hope leech from the boy’s eyes. He cocks his head, a caricature of contemplation, and asks Dick, “You ever paid ten grand for a fuck?” 

“I’ve never paid for a fuck in my life,” Dick answers, lips crooking in a coy grin. 

Arnot laughs, the sound obnoxious in the closed alley, and nudges Dick’s ankle with his standard issue shoe. “‘Course not. Someone with a face like yours could pick up any gal he wanted. Us regular mugs have to resort to other means.” 

Jason’s trembling again, sharp little breaths wheezing onto the hood of the cruiser as Dick surveys him. The chain rattles softly against the thick of the cuffs when the boy’s hands shake. 

“A ten grand fuck is a pretty high bar around here,” Arnot continues, wincing on Jason’s behalf. “You’re going to need to convince both of us you’re worth that sort of windfall if you want those cuffs off.” 

Jason flinches, but nods in earnest, features slack with solemn acceptance. 

“Alright then,” Arnot says, evidently pleased, and gestures for Dick to lift the boy off the hood. He does, not relinquishing his grip on the cuffs as he marches the kid around the side of the car and towards the back door that Arnot holds open. 

Jason’s heels dig in when he notices, twisting in Dick’s grip. “You said I wasn’t going to jail!” 

Arnot rolls his eyes, stepping aside so Dick can leverage the kid into the back. “Calm down, kid. We’re not fucking in an open alleyway, are you kidding me? You fucking new to this hustle or something?” 

Jason concedes at that, reluctantly bowing his head for Dick to push him onto the backseat. He bounces a little, shuffling in further and pressing back hard into the leather when Dick follows him into the cab. He looks small in the back of the cruiser, the shadow of the mesh intimidating where it falls across his soft, youthful features. 

He sets his jaw, but keeps his eyes low, shoulders hunched as Dick settles on the seat. Arnot leans in to clap him on the shoulder, grinning as he says, “I’ll give you two lovebirds some privacy,” and slams the door shut on them. 

Jason flinches sharply with the sound, swallowing harshly in the sudden quiet of the cruiser. Dick just lowers his hands to his belt and opens the buckle. 

“Come here, kid,” he instructs, and Jason folds after a moment’s hesitation, shuffling forward on his knees. His skin squeaks on the leather, feet crooked awkwardly in his ridiculous heels as he closes the distance carefully. 

Dick sighs and reclines against the door to survey the kid. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he assures him, and reaches out a slow hand. Lets the boy jolt and then settle when he wraps a palm around the back of his neck. Just resting, not grabbing yet. “Come closer, you ever done this sort of thing before?” 

“A blowjob?” Jason says incredulously, voice rough with unshed tears. He nods, a hint of brazen resolution to his posture as Dick unbuttons his slacks and pulls down the zipper. “Yeah, I’ve given plenty of those before.” 

He sits back on the leather, finally, thighs crooked as he watches Dick palm the front of his briefs. There’s a resentful set to his jaw, but Dick can discern capitulation amidst the air of resignation that clings to him. 

“I’m not even hard yet,” Dick admits with a sigh. The pressure feels good on his stirring cock, but he’s not as turned on by sniffling hookers as his coworkers evidently are. He lets his gaze trail over the cuffed boy, the lace of one strap where it’s slipped down his shoulder in the tousle. 

He is pretty, even with the obnoxiously provocative makeup. He can see a softness to the boy’s bitten lips, something alluring in the sweep of those long, feathery lashes. He’ll probably grow out of the prettiness into something handsome, but for the meanwhile, Jason’s certainly learnt to leverage his good looks. 

That chest rises and falls with a heavy, uncomfortable breath as Jason’s gaze flickers down to Dick’s crotch and away again, shoulders shifting. “Do you want me to…?” 

Dick reclines back against the caged window and surveys the boy. Normally, with any new partner, he’d suggest some light masturbation to set the mood, but with the boy’s hands cuffed, that’s off the table unless he intends to grind himself to completion on Dick’s polished shoe. He doesn’t suppose the kid’s all that great with dirty talk yet, either. 

“What were you going to do with that guy?” Dick asks. Jason looks immediately wary, and Dick rolls his eyes, thumbing the head of his soft cock. “It’s not entrapment, kid. I need something to get me interested here. Tell me what you were gonna let him do to you.” 

Jason shifts again, thighs creaking against the leather as he straightens somewhat. Steeling his resolve, perhaps, as he glances out the windshield towards the empty alleyway. Beyond the glass, Arnot is puffing inattentively on a cigarette, one eye fixed on the opening to the passage, surveying for any interruptions. 

“I was going to give him a blowjob,” Jason states, expression unreadable with his head turned as it is. 

Dick sighs, rolling up into a sit. The kid’s not getting with the programme, which means he’s going to have to pick up the slack. 

Jason jolts when Dick’s fingers brush his throat, but he only uses the contact to take the boy’s chin in his grip and turn Jason towards him. Keeps his eyes on the supple roll of that lower lip beneath his thumb, the slight indent the nail leaves when he digs it in. Jason lets his jaw slacken into his touch, breath hitching a little at the proximity. 

“Describe it to me,” Dick suggests, smearing some of that lipstick at the corner of his mouth. “What they do to you, what he was going to do.” 

“I,” Jason starts, and gathers himself, swallowing before he continues, “It depends what they like.” 

Dick hums an encouragement, sitting back a little to draw his cock out of his briefs and survey the whole of the boy. 

“Some of them like to kiss first,” Jason continues reluctantly, spurred by Dick’s reassurance. His breath stutters a little when Dick’s fingertips trail over his arm, tugging his strap back onto his shoulder. “Make out, or whatever.” 

Dick’s eyes drag back up to hold his gaze. “Kiss how? Show me.” 

Jason hesitates, but leans forward to meet Dick, gaze fixed on his lips so he can land the kiss. Dick was right about them; they’re soft as anything, warm and plush when they brush over Dick’s, featherlight but searching. Pressing tentatively deeper as he learns the shape of the officer’s mouth, growing more confident in his ministrations when Dick responds. 

It’s nice, and Dick lets the boy settle into the rhythm, enjoy his time, before he places a steadying hand onto his sternum and gently presses the boy back. Jason pulls back with a frown, the concern immediate, clearing as Dick says, “What else do you do?” 

“I let them touch me,” Jason says, and Dick hums, gaze falling to the rise of the boy’s chest. He fingers the lace trim across the top of the boy’s shirt, tracing the grooves of his chest as Jason breathes raggedly. “Some of them like to just touch me over my clothes. Others-” 

He pauses, trailing off when Dick’s fingertips brush over and then circle a nipple through the thin material. 

“Others?” Dick prompts. 

Jason swallows. “Others just shove their hands under my shirt to feel me up.” 

Dick studies his face, watches the shift of muscle and the shiver of skin beneath his palm when he trails it from the hollow of the boy’s throat to the dip of his sternum, pulling the shirt down the barest amount. The boy stutters a small breath, chest rising to kiss Dick’s fingertips before he shifts them to the bottom of Jason’s tank top and slides up under. 

Dick’s always worked best playing off the reactions of his partners. When he cups the boy’s budding chest, Jason rocks forwards, hips flexing once as he stares at Dick, expression a maelstrom. The shudder that ripples up his small spine when Dick swipes a thumb over his nipple stirs a heat in Dick’s groin. 

“Keep going,” he instructs softly, and Jason nods dazedly. 

“They like pushing me up against walls,” he confesses, lashes fluttering when Dick switches to the other areola, coaxing it to stiffness. His voice grows a little tighter with every slow, gentle glide of Dick’s digits. “Groping at me. Pushing a leg between my thighs, up against my-” 

The blush that takes the boy’s cheeks is almost adorable, drawing Dick’s attention more than anything else this evening. That bright splotch of red, an endearingly natural shade above the plaster of his lipstick, has Dick’s hand trailing down to brush over the front of the boy’s rumpled skirt. 

Jason sucks in a breath sharper than any other, gaze dropping to follow its progress when Dick tucks two fingers under to stroke up the seam of the boy’s panties. They’re lace, thin and delicate. He can feel the twitch and swell of the boy’s limp cock when he trails over it. 

“Here?” he asks, when Jason falls silent, and the hooker nods again. “Hard, or soft?” 

“Both,” Jason croaks, mesmerised by the progress of Dick’s palm. His other stays in his own briefs, tugging at his swiftly rising cock as he watches the arousal bloom gradually over the boy’s pretty features. 

Dick takes the head of the boy’s cock between forefinger and thumb when it begins to stiffen, distending the lace panties to press back against his touch. They’re far too small, probably by design, and Dick shifts his angle to tuck fingers past the waistband, just far enough to have the head of that cock peek out. 

He still can’t see, not with that skirt draped over the boy’s lap, but Dick’s always been a tactile learner. The heat between his fingers is a mirror of his own as he dips to roll the boy’s balls in his palm. 

“I think you can blow me now, kid,” Dick reminds him, startling Jason from the slow, unconscious roll of his hips into the officer’s grip. He nods, coming back to himself as Dick withdraws his hand and peels back his briefs, letting the length of his cock bob free. 

There’s a bit of awkward shuffling as Jason works his way up onto his knees on the leather seating, hands pressed hard to the small of his back as he bends toward Dick’s lap. He sets to work remarkably quickly, wasting no time in lathering his cock up with his rosy tongue before he’s taking it between his lips. 

There’s an efficiency to the movements, every bob of his head gauged to give his tongue the most access to the amount of cock he’s able to fit in his small mouth. Dick can see his hands twitch in the small of his back; he probably supplements the lack of depth with a fist or two, to keep the customer happy. 

Jason adjusts quickly though, dipping his spine to lower his mouth onto Dick at a different angle, to enable him to glance up through those pretty lashes and hold Dick’s intrigued gaze. 

He does look pretty like this, giving Dick the greatest view of the way his lips stretch around the girth of his cock, the way he pulls back all the way to kissing the tip before he rolls his mouth back down the shaft. Taking more and more of him with every bob, coaxing his throat into accepting Dick deeper and deeper, adapting to the slide. 

He knows how to use his tongue too, which surprises Dick. Jason familiarises himself with Dick’s cock remarkably quickly, responding to the officer’s quiet moans, returning to the same spots time and time again as he learns Dick’s preferences. Soon, Dick’s rolling his hips up to meet the boy’s artful mouth, a hand resting on the back of his head, threaded through his dark locks. 

They both startle when the cruiser rocks, Dick’s head snapping up as the door across the cab is yanked open. Arnot leans down, posture open and unconcerned, so Dick assumes they haven’t been caught by a passerby. 

“You don’t mind if I watch, do you?” Arnot asks with a grin, eyes dark in the shadow of the streetlight. 

Dick’s not usually one for voyeurism, but he gets the impression it was a rhetorical question, especially when Arnot wrenches the door wide and leans down to get a better view of where Jason is working attentively at Dick’s cock. 

“What a piece of ass,” Arnot croons, sliding one hand beneath the boy’s skirt to grope at his presented ass. Jason shifts, a protest rising and falling in his throat as Arnot kneads the flesh, flipping the skirt further up his back to expose all of him. Dick can see the cut of the boy’s panties where they disappear between the cleft of his ass. 

As he watches, Arnot tugs the thin strip of material aside to expose Jason’s hole, slipping a brisk finger inside. Jason’s protesting shout is much more audible this time, but Dick tightens his grip on the boy’s hair, for his own good, keeping him captive. Harder to get into trouble when his mouth is stuffed full of cock. 

Arnot chuckles, finger curling as it spears into the teen with what appears to be minimal resistance. “Can you believe this shit?” Arnot laughs, gleefully meeting Dick’s gaze. “Whore comes pre-lubed. Can’t make this shit up, I swear.” 

The second finger goes in with a bit more squirming, distress filtering into Jason’s eyes as Arnot scissors him roughly. Dick keeps his grip on the back of Jason’s neck, rocking rhythmically up into the boy’s spit-slicked lips. Jason takes him smoothly, despite the obvious discomfort as Arnot works his hole open. 

“He gets loose faster than any cunt I’ve ever fucked,” Arnot comments, to Jason’s vocal dismay. Dick can see the shame radiating through the boy, all of him awash with a sickly flush as he works Dick’s cock faster, eager to be done with the deed. 

When Dick glances up, he almost pities the kid. Shifts his grip a little to cup Jason’s skull more firmly as his partner waves his nightstick euphorically, changing the angle of his fingers to hold the boy’s hole open to the cool air as he lines it up. 

Jason stills when he feels the first nudge of cool metal alloy, stiffening sharply when he recognises the unyielding texture. He groans, loud and desperate, pulling back from Dick’s cock as his hands twitch in the cuffs. Dick holds him down patiently, ignoring the boy’s bucking as Arnot presses forward inexorably into the boy’s exposed hole. 

Those moans dissolve into anguished sobs the further in the nightstick goes, his small frame shaking bodily with the strain as he locks those pleading eyes on Dick. He’s crying now, the salt of his tears rolling down those flushed cheeks to meet Dick’s cock where it stretches the corners of his mouth. 

“Look at the slut go,” Arnot sings, fucking the baton in and out until Dick’s almost sick at the thought of how far the weapon has penetrated the boy’s passage. He stops abruptly, the air shuddering from Jason’s lungs in a rush, tinged with a low whine as those eyes press closed. “Wish you could see this, Grayson.” 

Dick just gives him a responding grunt, hitching his hips up into Jason’s mouth. The boy chokes, eyes flying open in a panic, but it sets him back to work, gives him something to focus on as Arnot starts fucking him in earnest with the thick baton. 

Jason’s motions get sloppier the longer Arnot works him over, those pretty blues almost pleading with Dick to come, tightening the breath in Dick’s lungs until his whole skull is buzzing with his approaching climax. 

It rushes up on him like a storm, Dick’s grip slackening on the back of Jason’s head when he sees the boy’s eyes blow wide with the realisation. Jason yanks off his cock as soon as he’s able, gasping in a heady breath as Dick crests, thick spurts of cum ricocheting. Hitting the boy’s face and dribbling back down onto Dick’s cock as he pants above his crotch. 

Jason looks less than pleased at the slow drip of spend down his cheekbones, lips still slack in his shock as Dick strokes the last of it from his sensitive member. Then Jason swallows and breathes deep, lashes closing as Dick slumps back against the door. 

Arnot whistles low in admiration and nudges Jason forwards. He struggles to steady himself against the shove, the head of Dick’s cock smearing more cum across his cheek as he does. It jostles the nightstick in him, earning a wince as Jason rises back up onto his knees. 

“I think you should clean the upstanding officer up, whore,” Arnot tells him, and Dick watches the numb resignation wash over Jason’s features, the understanding that he hasn’t escaped his fate. Jason yelps when Arnot draws back the baton and slams it into him, grinding down against the boy’s prostate as Jason shudders and shakes. “Fix up your mess.” 

“Yes, sir,” Jason gasps, thick throat trembling around the syllables before his tongue dips out to swipe through the mess clinging to Dick’s softening cock. It’s still sensitive, and Dick hisses, gripping his shaft tight when that tongue laps at his head. 

“Such a good slut,” Arnot murmurs, thrusting into him a few more times before drawing the nightstick out. Jason’s hole makes an awful squelching noise when it withdraws fully, a whimper cresting behind the boy’s lips as he swallows the cum down and tends to the last few drops. 

Dick pets at his hair, letting Jason rise back up to sit on his heels when he’s clean. He tucks himself away as the boy gathers himself, still panting raggedly, quietly, as he watches Dick tidy up, yanking his zipper closed. 

Jason flinches when the baton hits the footwell, the noise loud in the enclosed space as Arnot’s hands return to the boy’s hips, stroking over that fluttering hole as Jason blinks out tears and swallows down thin noises. 

He does bleat a note of shock when Arnot’s grip shifts, his ministrations unseen from where Dick is positioned. He leans forward to get a better look, and just manages to catch the last of the lipstick tube disappear into that hole, balanced on the tip of Arnot’s propelling finger. 

Jason looks horrified at the development, nausea rolling over his features when Arnot waggles the digit inside him. 

“Clench down tight on that, won’t you?” Dick’s partner instructs, and Dick watches the muscles in the boy’s back pull tight when he tries. Arnot withdraws his fingers, giving the boy’s ass a resounding smack that makes him jolt upright and no doubt shifts the lipstick deeper in his passage. 

Arnot flips the skirt back down, snapping the panties back into place over the boy’s puffy, sensitive hole. “There,” Arnot says with a laugh, “good as new.” 

He withdraws from the vehicle and reaches for Jason’s cuffs. It takes a moment for Jason to get his legs under him, the blood flow making him sway dangerously as Arnot offers the chain to Dick. 

He takes it, wrapping a broad palm around Jason’s bicep to keep him upright as his heels skid across the footwell and knock the discarded baton. The boy’s features are awash of grief, slack with silent anguish as Arnot circles around the cruiser to open Dick’s door for him. 

“Would you consider that a ten grand fuck?” Arnot asks as Dick manoeuvres backwards out of the cruiser, finding his feet easily as he turns Jason’s cuffs towards him. He nods all the same, reaching back into the cab to draw the boy out. Unsatisfied, Arnot grins down at the teen and croons, “Feel like a ten grand fuck for you?” 

Jason looks too shell-shocked to answer, letting Dick manhandle him out of the car and back up onto his feet. His knees knock when Dick leans him against the door jab to slot the key into his cuffs, chest hitching quietly as Dick rolls the silver bracelets off his wrists. 

Arnot’s gaze follows him when Jason takes a short step back, rubbing the bruised skin in a daze as Dick hooks the cuffs back into his belt and reaches for the passenger side door. One of the boy’s hands skims down the back of his skirt, pressing in to feel the protrusion of the lipstick tube still in his ass. Dick pauses with a hand on the roof to address Jason; the boy starts when he speaks. 

“Don’t let us catch you hustling again.” 

“Yessir,” Jason slurs between his hiccups. He looks a mess, mascara streaked down his cheeks and lips trembling. He's not going to pick up any more Johns tonight looking like that. 

Arnot flicks a wrist towards the hood of the car, reaching in carelessly to start the engine. “You want your cash, kid?” 

Jason’s gaze swivels dumbfoundedly to the hood, where the knife and the cash still sit. He crosses over the pavement wobbily, pressing a hand to the metal to steady himself as he leans over to snatch up the cash and eyes the switchblade. That gaze flashes up to each of theirs, before Jason turns and takes off down the alley at a brisk walk, ankles rolling dangerously as he hastens away, leaving the knife where it sits. 

Arnot laughs, the sound chasing the boy down the passageway as Dick ducks in to take his seat. “Good choice,” the officer bellows after him, though Dick’s not sure the boy takes any heed of his words. “Glad to see you’re learning your lesson.” 

He slumps back into the driver’s seat, snapping the door closed behind him and flicking on the lights. Dick just manages to catch the flash of the boy’s skirt as he turns the corner and disappears. 

“So,” Arnot says, tossing him a smile as he kicks the gear into reverse and rolls backwards out of the empty alley, “where to next?”

**Author's Note:**

> [ ](https://linktr.ee/meaninglessblah)


End file.
